


A hastily packed banana and the improper use of shower gel

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, this is just Enjolras getting himself off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 10:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17020596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: Enjolras knew he loved Grantaire - to some extent. He just didn't realise quite how deep his love truly ran.





	A hastily packed banana and the improper use of shower gel

**Author's Note:**

> Look guys, this isn't even a proper smut fic, just something that came to me when I read the label on a Lush shower gel.

There were a lot of things in life you couldn’t count on: politicians, people being sensible enough to vaccinate their children, for the lid of the yogurt to be ripped off cleanly, train punctuality, and the weather forecast, to name a few. The latter, Enjolras had just experienced. He should know better by now, he really should. Usually, he had a raincoat in his backpack but he’d taken a banana to work the day before and it had gotten trapped under his laptop. Banana mush all over his backpack had meant a fun time in the laundry machine for said backpack - and that he’d changed his bag. Yes, he used to be amused by Marius’ insistence to have a banana box but now he knew why his friend used it religiously. 

That’s the story of how a hastily packed banana lead to Enjolras being soaking wet the second he stepped off the metro before work. He’d gotten so wet, he was still damp by the time he made his way to the Musain. Usually, he’d go home and change but as fate would have it, the metro was running late and Enjolras was barely making it to the meeting. To crown it all, just before he rounded the corner to warm safety in the form of hot coffee and friends, a car drove past him - right through a puddle, spraying Enjolras with dirty rainwater and, strangely, a stray napkin which still clung tightly to his pants as he finally entered the Musain. 

So, yes, it was one of those days, because the Musain had also run out of Enjolras’ favourite pastry. In quite a mood, he made the track upstairs to drop off his dripping wet stuff before getting a coffee. Once he emerged at the top of the stairs, he felt worlds better already. Hearing the chatter of his friends, Grantaire’s laugh and the way Courfeyrac’s voice tumbled over itself to catch up with its own words… it soothed something inside Enjolras’ chest. However, the presence of his friends did not erase the fact that the water dripping from his coat made soft splashing sounds on the floor of the Musain. He was shivering slightly as the dampness of the day finally caught up with him. 

“You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” Enjolras said in lieu of a greeting. “I need a coffee. ASAP.”

“You need a hot shower and a change of clothes,” Grantaire answered. 

“The Musain offers many things, but it sadly doesn’t have a clothes dispenser.” 

“Yet!” Joly piped in. “I should suggest that! People could donate their clothes here, I could wash them, pack them in airtight bags and we could sell them here for very cheap! And all the money goes to charity, of course. But… ugh, no.” Joly shivered. “I don’t really want the clothes of strangers in my washing machine…”

“I’ve got no problem with that,” Jehan said, “I can wash them at my place. We could get together after the meeting and talk details?” 

“A good plan,” Joly agreed. 

“It is but it doesn’t solve the shivering and drenched mess that’s my best friend.” Courfeyrac pointed at Enjolras. 

“I can offer you a hot shower, dry clothes, a raincoat and an umbrella at my place?” Grantaire suggested. “I’m sure the meeting can start either later or could be postponed.”

“I could take over, if that’s alright for everyone,” Combeferre said. 

Enjolras groaned and hung his head but nodded. “Yes. The discomfort of damp clothes outweighs my need to be present for the meeting. Who’s taking notes?” 

“I am,” Marius said. “I can give them to you at home and fill you in on everything left out of the notes.”

“Alright. Okay, Grantaire, whisk me away.” 

“Gladly so! It’s less whisking and more… rounding the corner.” Grantaire shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his umbrella and handed it to Enjolras, once coats had been put on. “I know you like to be in charge of the umbrella.” 

Enjolras laughed softly. “I’m traumatised from Combeferre nearly poking out my eye once! I have valid reason.”

Grantaire snorted. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Smiling softly, Enjolras shook his head and made sure to hold the umbrella over both of them as much as possible. He even linked his arm with Grantaire’s to draw the other man closer - only to insure that both wouldn’t get wet, of course. It had nothing to do with the crush he’s been harbouring for a few months now. Nothing at all. 

Back at Grantaire’s flat, Enjolras dutifully put the wet umbrella in the bathroom sink while Grantaire gathered some warm and dry clothes for him. 

“I’ll make you a coffee for after your shower. Something to eat, too? Baguette with the caramel spread?” Grantaire leaned against the door frame and cocked his head in question. 

“That sounds pretty perfect, to be honest,” Enjolras smiled. “Thank you for the clothes.” 

“No worries. I figured I’d give you jeans instead of sweatpants because I’m sure you’ll want to go to the meeting?” 

“I’d like to,” confirmed Enjolras. “Thank you for the consideration.”

“Of course. Just use whatever products you find. Thanks to Jehan’s job at Lush, we will never have to buy our own products ever again and get to feel good about the environment and animals. Plus, the products are really great.”

“Oh, they so are,” Enjolras agreed. “My skin has never looked better!”

“It’s luminous!” Grantaire grinned. “Oh! You’ll probably need underwear… do you find it awkward to wear mine? It’s washed, of course.” 

“Don’t find it awkward. I’ve forgotten to take mine on holiday one too many times, so Courf and Ferre always pack spare ones I can wear. I’m… not the best at keeping track of the little things.” 

“You rock the big things though.”

God, why didn’t he just kill Enjolras on the spot instead of submitting him to this kind of torture? 

Thoughts still circling around Grantaire and that specific smile he seemed to sport awfully often lately, Enjolras got into the shower. Somehow it was weirdly intimate, both the smile and showering in Grantaire’s shower. 

Was that where Grantaire jerked off? 

Why was Enjolras even thinking about that? Maybe because he knew Courfeyrac liked the shower for such activities and Enjolras himself wasn’t opposed to it on lazy mornings. While he preferred his own bed, he could appreciate the warmth of the shower though. Maybe Grantaire did, too. Maybe there was a way to find out about it. Did Enjolras even want to know? What good did it do him to know where Grantaire did it? Not an awful lot, that was for sure. 

Shaking the thoughts away, Enjolras grabbed the bottle of shower gel. As predicted, all the products were from Lush and thus great for entertainment. Enjolras was an avid reader of shower bottles. When he had been a child, he’d often read the texts out loud just to learn how to control his voice. The habit hadn’t died down, but now he barely ever pretended the backs of shampoo bottles were scripts for TED Talks. 

“How to use,” Enjolras mumbled under the loud spray of the shower. “We suggest that if you don’t know how to use shower gel, you find someone you really like and ask them to show you.” 

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. There was just something about the marketing strategies of Lush and Innocent Smoothies he really liked. They were fun - and the smoothie bottles really made his mornings. 

Enjolras squeezed a generous amount out of the bottle and lathered it up between his hands. It was wonderfully strange how quickly the room filled with the scent of it - and the scent of Grantaire. As soon as Enjolras ran his soapy hands over his collarbone, a quiet moan slipped out from between his lips. His head was swimming, full of warmth, comfort and Grantaire. Slowly, his cold and frozen feet started warming up again. 

Enjolras ran his hand down his body, casually, leisurely. He showered quickly, usually. Not as quick as Combeferre, who had perfected the art of efficient showers and power-naps, but quick - especially when he didn’t wash his hair. There was just something about being wrapped up in so much  _ Grantaire _ that slowed Enjolras down. He’d always thought Grantaire smelled nice, even back when he hadn’t yet had a crush on him. The infatuation had simply amplified the desire to be close to Grantaire, to connect similar scents with him. 

And this? Standing naked in Grantaire’s shower, warming up, touching himself while enveloped in Grantaire’s scent - it made him loose-limbed and soft-brained. His soap-slicked hand traveled slowly over his chest, gliding over his soft stomach. He’d tried - once - to get abs, back when Courfeyrac was determined to lose weight and Enjolras had still been trapped in the mindset that he’d need more muscles to be manly. Neither of them had achieved their goal but instead learned to like their bodies - maybe not love them, because normative social structures were hard to escape, but they definitely liked their bodies much more now. 

Enjolras liked the contrast his body posed. He liked his sharp jaw, he liked how soft his stomach felt under his hands, he liked how his hip bones balanced that softness out. The way Enjolras saw it, he was the perfect mix of both his parents, down to the nose and the glint in his eyes he’d inherited from his father. 

One of his most favourite things about his body, however, was the feeling of hands sliding down his sides - not even in a sexual manner. Just as he was caressing his sides and hip, senses clouded, he heard Grantaire laugh from the other room. Enjolras’ cock gave a slight twitch at the sound. 

Oh, so that’s how it was, Enjolras mused. 

He hadn’t realised that his body was involved in this crush - his mind, yes, that had been a given for a while now. But his body didn’t usually react like that to crushes. It was a scary but pleasant feeling, especially now that he was warm, loose and touching himself with the sound of Grantaire’s voice still in his ears. 

Enjolras closed his eyes and sighed contently, fingers inching closer to his dick. It was easy to go from there, the motions having been practiced for the past fifteen years. He liked to start slowly, letting his fingers dance over his cock. The world was harsh enough, he didn’t need the toughness in bed, too - or in the shower, in this case. 

Enjolras gently ran the tips of his fingers over his dick, down to its tip, to his balls. He hummed, conscious of making as little noise as possible. The shower might swallow some sounds, but certainly not all of then. However, he couldn’t help a moan slipping past his lips as he applied a little more pressure, grazing his cock with his blunt fingernails. 

Grantaire had blunt nails as well. Would Grantaire be soft and careful at first? Or would he grip Enjolras’ cock with confidence and a smirk on his lips? Enjolras couldn’t decide which fantasy he preferred, all he knew was that he’d give a lot to have his hand replaced by Grantaire’s nimble fingers. Surely his hands were a wonder. They created art, so they had to be good at taking care of Enjolras. 

Letting himself fall, Enjolras allowed the fantasy to play out in his mind. Maybe Grantaire would wonder why it took Enjolras so long to shower. Maybe he would open the door, would see Enjolras touching himself. 

Of course, fantasy-Enjolras noticed. Reality-Enjolras didn’t know how, seeing as the door was locked and the curtain didn’t appear to be see-through, but fantasy-Enjolras locked eyes with Grantaire and smirked. Grantaire blabbed and apologised, but Enjolras only told him to either leave or help him take care of it. 

Enjolras shuddered at his own boldness, stroking himself a little faster. The sound of clothes hitting the floor pulled him out of his pleasure-induced haze, and soon he could feel warmth all over. His own hand squeezed his dick before releasing it. Enjolras ran a hand over his stomach, stroking and caressing, Grantaire’s warm fingers splayed on his hips left and right. 

With a slight smirk on his lips, Enjolras started to fondle his balls, hips canting into his hand. He needed friction, he needed someone to take care of him, someone who’d understand what he wanted without words. He needed Grantaire, who would cast glances at him and immediately knew his mood. Grantaire, whose fingers formed a ring around his cock and squeezed, started jerking up and down painfully slow. 

Enjolras leaned back his head, hitting the shower wall. He didn’t care, not at all. It was far more important to let this fantasy wash over him, to feel Grantaire’s hands on his dick, his stomach, his chest, pinching his nipples. Grantaire’s laughter still rang in his ears as his hand moved faster. He tightened the grip on his cock and twisted his hand, something that always - without fail - made him moan softly. Grantaire would know, knew already. Knew what made him weak, how he could entice him, where to touch to reduce him to a mess of sounds and needs. 

Eyes closed, Enjolras slowed his motions, determined to savour every second of his fantasy, of Grantaire in the shower with him. He didn’t want to come too quickly. His hand stopped altogether, moving down to cup his balls, to fondle them gently. It wasn’t something he often did, finding it too awkward and not satisfying enough, but Grantaire’s fingers on him, the calluses, the blunt nails… the thought quite excited Enjolras. Such a different feeling. Maybe Grantaire would even get down on his knees for him. 

Enjolras’ breath hitched at the thought. He’d never… there had never been an interest but Grantaire’s smirking lips wrapped around his dick, Grantaire’s dark eyes looking up at him from underneath his lashes, the water from the shower cascading over Grantaire’s body - Enjolras enthusiastically consented. In fact, he consented so much, he slicked up his hand more with Grantaire’s shower gel to mimic the supposed feeling of lips around him. 

With his thumb, he gathered some of his precum, mixing it with the lavender-mint-scented goodness and stroked himself slowly again. He bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from crying out in pleasure. It was all too much. Grantaire’s presence everywhere, the slick sensation, the tight grip on his cock, the steady rhythm becoming less and less steady. His breath became erratic. There was nothing else but Grantaire, his scent, his hands, his curls, his laugh, his sparkling eyes, his lips. Enjolras came with a quiet groan, stifling himself by biting down on his hand. 

For a second or two, there was nothing. No sound, no thought, no feeling. 

Then, there was a knock on the door, followed by: “Are you alright in there?”

Grantaire’s voice startled Enjolras out of his thoughts. 

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

“I’m okay!” Enjolras yelled over the spray of the shower. “Just finished!” 

He cringed at his choice of words, at the way his voice sounded. 

“Alright.” Grantaire sounded bemused. “By the way, feel free to use my body lotion. Second shelf, red label. I’ll leave you to it now.”

Enjolras waited a second until he was sure Grantaire had stepped away from the door. He quickly rinsed off his hands and body, purposefully staying far away from the treacherous shower gel. He shut off the shower, grabbed the towel, slung it around his waist and sat down on the closed toilet.

Fucking hell. 

He’d just jerked off. 

In Grantaire’s shower. 

Thinking about Grantaire. 

With Grantaire’s shower gel.

While Grantaire said outside. 

Enjolras couldn’t even comprehend how many rules he’d broken, how fucking creepy he’d just been. Masturbating alone in your bed while thinking about someone - been there, done that. Perfectly normal. But this? This had just been plain creepy. It didn’t help that Enjolras slipped into Grantaire’s boxer shorts, that the second he opened the pot of body lotion he was hit with Grantaire’s scent again. He sighed deeply, screwing the lid back and placing the pot on the shelf again. His eye caught the label: ‘Instructions: moisturise your entire body or - if you fancy - someone else’s body.’ Enjolras choked on his own spit and coughed. 

Fucking Lush Content Marketing. 

He should write them a very strongly worded letter, that he should. 

Still grumbling a little, Enjolras pulled on the rest of the clothes Grantaire had laid out for him. They were soft and warm on his skin, smelling faintly like a strange mix of Grantaire, Jehan, laundry detergent and mint. He was still scrunching up his nose when he entered the kitchen.

“Something the matter?” Grantaire asked, left eyebrow raised and the corner of his lip quirking up. “Smelled the coffee?”   
“Mint,” Enjolras’ mind only supplied at the sight of Grantaire.

Fucking hell. He had jerked off to him not even ten minutes ago! He could feel the blush creeping in, already knowing that he needed to stave it off lest it showed on his treacherous skin. 

“Mint?”

“Uhm…” Enjolras shook his head lightly. “Your clothes smell of mint.”

“Oh.” Grantaire looked baffled for a moment before he chuckled. “Jehan likes to add mint to out laundry. I don’t even notice it anymore. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Enjolras hummed softly. “Yeah, it makes it smell fresh.”

Grantaire smiled, inclining his head towards the coffee machine. “Cup for here or cup to go? Though I’m afraid you used up all our hot water for the week and missed the meeting.”

At that, Enjolras truly blushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. I can take the to go cup and be out of your hair in a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind the company. And you might not want to leave, given that it’s raining cats and dogs again.”

Enjolras risked a look out of the window and groaned. True to Grantaire’s word, it was storming outside, the branches of trees swaying sideways violently.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Grantaire pressed a hot cup of coffee into his hands. 

“Your favourite mug.”

Enjolras’ glance dropped down to the large mug with the handle shaped like a cat’s tail. It really was his favourite mug. When he’d still lived with Jehan, he’d always stolen it. It had the perfect shape for holding it in cupped hands. Kind of like Grantaire’s face. 

Great.

Why was he thinking about Grantaire’s perfectly cuppable face again? 

Right.

Yes.

Because he was in love with him. 

This was going to be a long rainy evening but it was one Enjolras wouldn’t exchange for anything in the world. Not the way he was curled up on Grantaire’s sofa, wearing Grantaire’s clothes, laughing with the man he had fallen in love with. 


End file.
